The Lost Prince
by TARDISBlueBox
Summary: The Doctor, Chris Cwej and Roz Forrester are given a task: locate a prince that went missing thirty years ago - the true heir to the throne of Kaloom. A man's life hangs in the balance, and the truth is hidden behind a web of deceit and betrayal. With two opposing forces racing to find the prince first, the Doctor must avert the death of a man who knows nothing of his own nature.
1. November 1962

The hull of the Fifth Holy Monarch's private vessel creaked and groaned, sending ominous, booming noises through the luxurious corridors of the ship. The Monarch himself, King Manir was walking swiftly towards the rear of the ship, his wife, the Queen Consort Nadik, hurrying after him. In her arms she held their infant son, swaddled in silver cloth.

"Quickly Nadik," said Manir. "We have little time."

They moved faster, the ship shaking as yet another laser bolt hit the shields. The ship was losing power, the emergency systems transferring all available energy into the deflector shields. These however, were rapidly failing, and Manir knew that the game was up.

"Hurry, my dear, through here," he said, resting his hand against a panel on the wall. A door opened, and he ushered Nadik through, anxiously looking down the corridor. He followed his wife through the door, sealing it shut behind him.

They were now standing in a domed room. In the centre of this room was a large white sphere, which hissed open as the Monarch and his Queen approached. Inside, there was a soft piece of padding, and the Queen laid her son down on top of it. The baby gurgled, oblivious to the impending fate, currently blasting away at the shields. A wave of light washed over the child, frightening him a little.

"Oh, my son," said the King, reaching down to stroke his son's head, comforting him. "I'm sorry that we must part, but we have no choice. You must be safe."

Manir pushed a button on the sphere, and it began to seal. Nadik sniffed as her son disappeared from view, but ultimately she knew that he would be safe - a description that could not so easily be applied to herself and her husband.

The sphere rose up from the floor, moving towards the back of the room. The wall opened, giving the King and Queen a look at the stars outside. There was a pop as the sphere passed through the airshell, followed by silence. The sphere began to glow, before it flew off across space, heading for a rather bright star.

"Let's go," said the King. "We'll face them together."

* * *

The rain pounded out of the sky, the droplets pinging onto the surface of the sea. It splashed off the wooden deck of the _Albatross_ , as the small fishing boat was flung between the waves. It's captain, Harold Moran grappled at the wheel, trying to get a firm hold on his ship. The wheel spun wildly as the boat careered about in the water. One of the crewmen, Harold couldn't see which, plunged over the side. Harold gritted his teeth and looked straight ahead. He couldn't stop to mourn the poor soul, he had to get the others to shore quickly and safely.

A bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, giving Harold a brief, horrific flash of the sea - the churning waves broiling ahead as he squinted out of the wheelhouse. A radio transceiver sat on a small table, a young man stammering in terror through the microphone. There was no response from the device, but for a harsh crackling, barely audible above the howling wind and booming waves.

"For god's sake!" Harold shouted, as the young radio operator repeated his SOS for the hundredth time. "No one's coming!"

"Get out there and help!" He roared. The young man jumped, looking at the captain of his ship with fear.

"We need every man out there! Hurry!" Harold shouted again. The radio operator leapt up, sprinting out the door and onto the deck.

Harold turned back to the wheel just as a blaze of light shot across the sky. He thought it was another lightning strike, but this idea was dashed when it shot across the sky again, this time travelling in the opposite direction.

"What the blazes is that?" Harold shouted, but his voice was snatched away by the wind, never reaching the ears of his crew. The light zipped to and fro across the clouds, before as if down towards the water. It disappeared behind a tall wave, before reappearing a moment later as the wave broke. Harold could see it a little clearer now, a ball of light, roughly two metres in diameter. It pulsed and throbbed softly as it darted above the froth. As the light drew closer, Harold saw that it was in fact a sphere, solid white with light blazing from within. As it hovered above the deck, the light faded to a soft, ebbing, milky glow.

Harold was not a religious man, not by any definition of the term, but he was captivated by this orb which seemed to have descended from the very heavens which churned so angrily above him now. The orb touched down on the deck without a noise and disappeared.

Harold's vision went dark momentarily, as his eyes adjusted to the sudden absence of light. As the deck in front of the wheelhouse gradually reappeared to Harold, his eyes were drawn to a small bundle of cloth that lay on the deck where the orb had been just before.

Harold reached for the lever which would lock the ship's wheel into place, a loud thunk sounding as the mechanism took hold. Harold turned and ran out the doors, his boots slipping on the deck. He ignored the shouts of his shipmates, and staggered around the wheelhouse towards the spot where the orb had been. There! Harold approached the small bundle, crouching down as the boat pitched across a wave. Harold fell back, rolling a little ways across the deck. He got up, moving back towards the bundle. He scooped it up, and ran back to the wheelhouse.

Harold set the bundle down on the same table upon which the radio equipment sat. The material was a shiny silver colour, and Harold found it to be soft to the touch. He reached out and pulled the bundle open. Harold gasped as the folds fell away.

A baby lay in the silver cloth, little more than a newborn. He looked terrified, his big wet eyes open wide and flitting across the room. Harold's mouth hung open as the baby began crying. The little boy bawled and wailed, his new environment hardly being the most calming.

"Moran!" Harold heard somebody shouting. He ignored the voice, enraptured by the child before him. Truly this must be some kind of miracle.

There was a terrible cracking noise, and a lurch of the boat. Harold quickly wrapped the baby up again, looking up through the window of the cabin. An array of jagged rocks lay ahead, illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning. Harold stood frozen - there was no time to do anything.

The boat ran aground, it's hull splintering away to nothing.

* * *

Helen Moran ran across the slippery rocks, screaming for her husband. She almost lost her footing, but she managed to right herself at the last moment. The wreckage of her husband's ship lay around twenty metres away, but it might as well have been fifty - Helen could simply not get herself there quick enough.

Helen hauled herself over the side rail of the _Albatross_ , her eyes flitting frantically across the deck. She covered her mouth and sobbed - there were so many bodies. She looked for her husband's yellow coat, but there was no sign of him. That was no consolation: she knew exactly where she was going to find him.

The door to the wheelhouse was hanging open, the door swaying a little in the wind. The deck was slick with rainwater, and Helen had to grab the door frame to stop herself from falling - the ship was at somewhat of an angle. She screamed as her eyes fell on the body of her husband, a pool of blood forming around his head. His glassy eyes were open, staring into space.

"Harold," Helen sobbed as she fell beside his body. "Harold, please, wake up!"

Tears mixed with the rainwater on Helen's face as she reached over, closing Harold's eyes. She rested her head on Harold's chest, sobbing even stronger than before.

Something was moving underneath Harold's coat. Helen's heart hammered in her chest as she sat back, reaching for the zip. She pulled the side of the coat back, revealing a shimmering silver cloth. Helen gasped as she opened it out, laying bare the mewling babe within. The child looked terrified, but he seemed to focus on Helen.

"Oh my god," she breathed. She'd stopped crying now - too shocked to cry. She lifted the baby boy, swaddling him in the silvery cloth and hugging him to her chest. The poor thing must have been nearly frozen - she had to get him back to the house.

Helen managed to get back over the rail of the _Albatross_ and across the rocks without slipping. As she ran up the wet road to her home, the baby began to cry, and Helen rocked him a little. He quieted a little as Helen made it into her kitchen, breathless not from the run, but from the varying emotions within her. She set the baby on the kitchen table, unfolding the cloth and looking down at the baby. He yawned, his little eyes beginning to close over.

"What on earth am I going to do with you?" she muttered.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. If you're enjoying the story so far, please follow/favourite. :-)**


	2. Rough Justice

_A very long way from Earth...  
_  
The crowd roared as Mineeto slammed into the table, cocktails and beers flying into the air as the quadruped rolled backwards, his insectoid legs scrabbling wildly at nothing. He fell off the table on the opposite side, landing on the ground with a loud thump. Mineeto pulled himself up onto his feet again, brushing off the dust from where he's fallen. He snarled at the man who'd just humiliated him in front of the entire clientele of his own bar.

"That's enough!" Mineeto shouted. "No more of this. You are making a dreadful mistake - do you know who I am?"

Chris Cwej chose not to respond with words, instead leaping across the table himself and grabbing hold of Mineeto again. The bar-owner yelped, his eyes growing wide with fear as he flew through the air. The crowd jeered as Mineeto hit the wall, crumpling to the ground.

"I'm being serious!" Mineeto pleaded, his composure beginning to crumble. Chris pulled him up, and the bar-owner finally let his facade collapse.

"Please! Let me go," he stammered.

"I don't think that's going to happen," said Chris. "There are two of friends of mine here that want to have a word with you."

Chris hefted Mineeto into the air and slammed him down on a nearby table. Mineeto's panicked eyes focused on two people - a man in a battered white hat and a woman with a rather furious expression.

"Hello Mineeto,"said the Doctor, taking a sip from his rather extortionately priced cup of tea. "How are things?"

"Doctor!" Mineeto shouted. "I might have known that you were behind this. I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"I'm not sure that you ever did have a chance," said the Doctor. "Besides, that's all in the past. I'm willing to turn over the page, all is forgiven - if you agree to certain conditions."

Chris stepped forward, reminding Mineeto of his presence.

"Perhaps you're willing to listen?" said the Doctor innocently.

Mineeto thought for a moment.

"Perhaps I am," he said, attempting to rescue some of his steely resolve.

"I thought you might be," said the Doctor, finishing his tea. "Here's how things currently lie: you're running a cargo operation into the mines on Trinimace-9, are you not?"

"I may be," Mineeto sniffed. "What's it to you? It's all legal and above board."

"The authorities believe those cargo ships are carrying tools, mining equipment," said the Doctor. "But they aren't, are they? They're carrying people - slaves for the mines."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Mineeto.

"Yes you do," the Doctor sneered, his amiable, friendly demeanour dropping away. "You're trafficking innocent people into those mines, very few of whom ever see the light of day again."

"I am involved in nothing of the sort!" Mineeto exclaimed, becoming agitated. "I run a perfectly legitimate business on Trinimace-9!"

"You do," said the Doctor. "But it's nothing more than a cover, a distraction from the truth. You're just a criminal, Mineeto."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black device. Mineeto gasped as he recognised the control box for the vast array of video screens positioned around his bar.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

"Did you really think I'd come here unarmed? Not with weapons of course, nothing so crude. No, I brought a video," said the Doctor as he pushed a button on the black box. The screens flickered, the game of hyperball descending into static and being replaced by a video taken from some sort of handheld camera.

A logo appeared out of the gloom, the very same one adorning every menu and glass in the bar. It was stencilled crudely onto a metal door, with a keypad set dead in the centre. A hand reached out, keying in a series of numbers - the door opened, revealing a cargo bay full of people. Their faces were dirty and frightened, and they shrunk away from the cameraman as he entered. Only just visible in the dim light were the metal chains binding each of the group to one another.

"Is that one of your cargo ships?" the Doctor asked. He waited for a few seconds before snapping. "Answer me!"

"I... I..." Mineeto stammered, lost for words. He needn't have worried - the Doctor was in full flow.

"I'll tell you then - it _is_ one of your ships. Identical to every other one in your fleet, each one carrying a new contingent of slaves for the mines."

The crowd had fallen silent, obviously disturbed by the images on the screens. A few were starting to look away from the screens, towards Mineeto. Chris was standing back now, allowing Mineeto to see everything.

"Now, normally at this point, I'd hand you over to the relevant authorities," said the Doctor. "But in this case, I'm going to make an exception. Now listen to me, Mineeto. You're going to close down your operation on Trinimace-9. I've already sent a copy of this video to the owners of the mines, with a promise to send it on to the Shadow Proclamation if things don't change. I'm making the same ultimatum to you. The trafficking ends now. If I find out it continues, I'll be back."

"I understand! Please, just leave me be," Mineeto pleaded.

"How pathetic," said the Doctor. "You've ruined countless lives. Those people will carry the scars of what you've done for the rest of their lives. At least those rescued have a chance to start again."

He stood up, straightening out his lapels.

"Tell me, have you met my friend Roz?" the Doctor asked. He walked a little away from the table, his back turned.

Mineeto looked on in fear as Roz stood up, walking around the table. She dragged him from the table, hauling him to his feet.

"If it were up to me," she said, "you wouldn't know mercy."

Then, she balled her hand into a fist, and punched Mineeto square on the nose. He sprawled back across the table, spark out unconscious. Chris winced as the bar owner fell back.

"He'll feel that in the morning," he said.

"I certainly hope so," said Roz.

"Finished?" asked the Doctor, looking over his shoulder.

"I think so," said Chris. "Come on, let's get back to the TARDIS before someone decides to call the police."

"Yes, you're right. The Judoon don't make for particularly pleasant company," said the Doctor. "A quick escape would be for the best."

"Are you sure that this was right?" asked Roz. "I mean, we've let him get away scot free!"

"I disagree," said the Doctor as they left the bar. "Mineeto's a businessman, but he's one that's never going to do business ever again. With the amount of witnesses here tonight, word of his crimes will get around soon enough. He'll be out of business within the year."

They had now left the bar, and were walking along a long mall-type space. Various shops and bars lined the sides of the room, each one hawking some different exotic gadget or drink. Through a long window running the length of the ceiling, a large blue planet could be seen, the space station they were currently on being in orbit. The TARDIS was waiting in a quiet alcove just ahead.

"Who knows? Maybe he'll even develop a conscience, feel guilt over what he's done," said the Doctor.

"I wouldn't put money on it," said Chris.

"You never know, Chris," said the Doctor. "We can hope."

"Doctor, look," said Roz, pointing ahead. Standing outside the TARDIS was a man. He could have been straight out of an old pulp detective novel, with a black trench coat and fedora. He seemed relaxed enough, leaning forward to read the sign on the TARDIS' door.

"Who is he?" whispered Roz.

"I've no idea, I've never seen him before," said the Doctor. "Let's find out. Hello there!"

The man turned as the trio approached. He had a rather handsome face, which formed into a smile as he saw the Doctor.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I presume that you are the Doctor?"

"You presume correctly," said the Doctor.

"Excellent! My name is Ambassador Frane, representing the Sixth Holy Monarch of Kaloom," said the stranger. "I've been looking for you for a very long time. I've come with a job offer."

"A job offer?" said the Doctor, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"A little formal perhaps. A request for your help might be more accurate," the ambassador corrected, bowing his head in a bashful fashion.

"I see. And what exactly does this request entail?" asked the Doctor, inflecting a little curiosity into his voice.

"I have been tasked with finding someone. A prince of our world went missing thirty years ago," said Ambassador Frane. "He was only a child, his parents jettisoned him to safety when they came under fire from pirates. We have searched for him for many years, but to no avail."

"What makes you think we can find him?" Ron asked, folding her arms.

"Your reputation is well known in certain parts of the galaxy," said the ambassador, giving her a pleased smile. "I believe that this particular request falls well within the bounds of your skills."

"Tell me more," said the Doctor. "You must have some idea where the prince is."

"We believe we have located the area where the prince would have landed. There is a small town on Earth called Portmason, it matches the jettison trajectory exactly," said Frane.

"Earth, you say?" said the Doctor.

"I will give you coordinates," said Frane. "I also have a beacon that you may use to summon me once you have found the prince."

"You seem very sure that we're going to help you," said Chris.

"Do I? Maybe I am," said Frane, giving a little chuckle.

"We'll give you our help," said the Doctor, holding out his hand. "Give me the beacon."

"Excellent," said Frane, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small silver orb. He handed it over to the Doctor.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, placing the orb into his own pocket.

"You are clear, then?" asked Frane. "You will locate the prince?"

"We will try," said the Doctor. "But I can't guarantee success. The prince has had thirty years to integrate with his new surroundings - he may know nothing of his true nature. It may not be possible to locate him."

"I have full confidence in your abilities, Doctor," said Frane. "Simply use the beacon once you have located the prince, and I will come and return him to our planet."

He tipped his hat at the three time travellers, before turning and walking off down the mall.

"Do you know what I smell?" asked the Doctor, his eyes fixed on Frane's back.

"What?" asked Chris. The Doctor gave a little sigh.

"Trouble."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. If you've enjoyed the story so far, please follow/favourite. :-)**


	3. Investigation

There was a light drizzle falling on Portmason as the TARDIS materialised. The door opened and Chris stepped out onto a short wooden jetty. He looked up at the clouded grey sky, screwing up his face as a few drops of rain splashed onto his face.

"I think that umbrella of yours is finally going to be of some use, Doctor," he said, calling back through the time machine's door.

"I think you're right," said the Doctor, springing through the TARDIS' doors and pushing the umbrella up.

"We always end up in the nicest places," said Roz, as she joined the Doctor and Chris outside the police box. She looked up at the dark sky and and the rain.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it has character," said the Doctor. "Paradise is all well and good - but it gets very boring very quickly. Believe me, I should know."

"I think I might disagree with you there, Doctor," said Roz.

"So, where do we start looking? Surely an alien prince is going to stand out a bit," said Chris.

"Not necessarily," said the Doctor. "Frane told us he's been here since infancy. In all likelihood, he knows nothing of his true heritage, and has adapted perfectly to his surroundings."

"Well, that's going to make things more difficult," said Roz.

"Yes, I imagine it will," said the Doctor. "Come on, let's go and see what we can find."

They began to walk down the pier, the wind battering them as they went.

"So, when are we, Doctor? What year is this?" Chris asked.

"Nineteen ninety three," said the Doctor. "It's the eleventh of March, nineteen ninety three, about half past eight in the evening."

"So the prince arrived here in nineteen sixty three, or thereabouts," said Roz. "How on earth are we going to find him?"

"I have one or two ideas," said the Doctor. "But first, let's have a look around, get the lie of the land. We should probably find somewhere to spend the night as well. Come on Chris, Roz. We're on a mission."

* * *

The three time travellers had only just left the jetty when something rather peculiar happened. The air shifted, and there was a bright flash of light at the very end of the pier. When the light had faded, a woman was standing on the pier. She stood for a moment, breathing in the damp air, before walking off. She passed by the TARDIS without giving it a single glance.

* * *

Albert Henning looked up as the door to the Portmason Inn opened and three strangers walked in. He was quite surprised - he never got customers this late.

"Good evening!" called the leader of the group, a little man in a white hat. He was accompanied by a man and a woman. "Terribly sorry, we know it's late."

"Not at all," said Albert. Despite the fact that the clock above the inn's fireplace was almost pointing at nine o'clock, Albert had a rule: never turn away a customer. "Come in, please. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks, not for me," said the little man. "I was wondering if you had rooms free, though."

"I do indeed sir, one apiece if you like," said Albert enthusiastically.

"That's perfect," said the woman quickly.

"I'll prepare them right away," said Albert. He walked out from behind the bar, disappearing off upstairs.

The Doctor, Chris and Roz waited until Albert was out of earshot.

"It's rather a quaint little place," said the Doctor, giving a little chuckle as he looked around.

"Perhaps," said Roz. "But a town like this will have a close community - everyone will be watching us. No one's going to trust newcomers."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said the Doctor, with a glance at the stairs. "Our friend upstairs seemed welcoming enough."

"Yes, but we haven't started asking questions yet," Roz pointed out.

"She's right Doctor," said Chris. "How are we ever going to find this prince? We don't even know who we're looking for."

"Ah, but we do," the Doctor corrected. "What do we know about this prince? Roughly thirty years old, male, probably adopted in early nineteen sixty three or late nineteen sixty two."

"Yes, but if we do find someone matching that description, we have no way of guaranteeing that it's him," said Roz. "It's hardly a unique set of characteristics."

"We keep our eyes open, and our ears to the ground," said the Doctor. "Look for anything that doesn't fit."

"That's easier said than done," said Roz. "This prince, he's been here since he was a child, he'll have been raised human, he won't even know he's not from Earth! He's not going to stand out - you said it yourself earlier!"

"Oh, there'll always be something not right," said the Doctor. "Use your training. Watch for anything that might lead us to him. There's no such thing as perfect hiding, there's always some incongruity that points to the truth."

"Fine," said Roz, glimpsing movement in the corner of her eye.

"Rooms are ready for you," said Albert as he came back into the bar. "Can I interest you in anything, food, drink?"

The Doctor refused again, but Chris and Roz ordered a beer each.

"We'll start looking in the morning," said the Doctor. "It's too late to do anything tonight. Get a good night's rest, the pair of you. We have a long day ahead of us."

* * *

When Chris and Roz came down the next morning, the Doctor was already awake. He had just finished a breakfast of tea and toast, and was working his way through a newspaper.

"Good morning!" he called as he saw his companions coming down the stairs.

"Good morning Doctor," said Roz as she and Chris drew up a chair each.

"Sleep well?" asked the Doctor. Albert came across and took Chris and Roz's orders for breakfast.

"We have a very busy day ahead," said the Doctor. "Did you both bring your radio comms from the TARDIS?"

Chris and Roz nodded their affirmation.

"Good," said the Doctor. "Now, here's the plan. I'm going to cover the seafront areas. Chris, you take the northern stretch of the town, and Roz covers the south. Between us, we're searching the whole town."

"And what exactly are we looking for?" asked Chris.

"Anyone fitting the description of the prince. Remember, from last night? Keep tabs on anyone you find," said the Doctor.

"Got it," said Chris.

"OK," said Roz. "And let's say we do find someone we think could be the prince? What do we do then?"

"Call me," said the Doctor. "We'll think up the best way to approach them."

"We're not just going to point Frane in the right direction?" asked Chris.

"Good heavens, no," said the Doctor. "I wouldn't trust Frane as far as I could throw him. We need to tread carefully."

"And that's something you're good at, is it?" asked Roz. The Doctor ignored her jibe, preferring to turn the page of his newspaper.

"The weather's considerably better this morning," he said, with a sniff.

Just then, Albert arrived with Chris and Roz's breakfasts. As they began to eat, the Doctor glanced at his watch.

"I'm going now," he said. "Keep in touch."

With that he left the Inn, leaving Chris and Roz to finish their fry-ups.

* * *

The weather was indeed better today - sunny skies with just a little cloud. The Doctor removed his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder as he walked along the seafront. The smell of salt was thick on the air, and the place was surprisingly busy for the time of year.

The one thing Portmason didn't seem to be short of was a pub. There were at least three on the seafront, all owned by the same Mr Connolly, according to the signs beside the doors. The Doctor wandered into the third one, giving the barman a smile as he propped himself up on a stool.

"Good morning," he said, studying the menu on the wall quickly. "A glass of lemonade, if you don't mind."

As the barman went to fetch the drink, the door to the bar was flung open and an elderly man staggered in.

"Mornin' Joe," said the barman, giving the man a nod as he brought the Doctor his lemonade. "What'll it be?"

"Brandy," Joe grunted.

"A little early, isn't it?" asked the Doctor conversationally as the barman went to make the drink. "It's not even midday yet."

"Piss off," said Joe. "I'll drink when I like."

"I'm very sorry. I suppose I should mind my own business," said the Doctor, slightly taken aback.

"Course you bloody should," said Joe. "Who the hell are you anyway? I've never seen you, and I've lived in this town these past seventy years."

"Have you really?" the Doctor asked, dodging the question expertly. "That's a very long time for someone to spend in one place."

"I like it here," said Joe. "Everybody keeps to themselves. Except for strangers, apparently."

"I'm very sorry, please accept my fullest apologies," said the Doctor sincerely. "As it happens, I'm quite interested in learning a little about the history of Portmason. You seem like the perfect man to talk to."

"Reckon I am," said Joe. "I've been here the longest out of anybody, 'part from Mrs. Naismith. She's ninety three you know."

"Very interesting," said the Doctor disinterestedly. "So, tell me about Portmason."

"There's not actually much to tell," Joe admitted. "The town itself was founded in 1793, or thereabouts. Fishing was the main source of income, still is really, though tourism's popular these days."

"Yes, I imagine so," said the Doctor. "It's a rather beautiful town."

Joe bristled with pride at this stranger's description of his home.

"That she is, sir, that she is," he said. He took a sip of his brandy, before continuing.

"You can't really see it from here, but there's a lighthouse a little ways up the coast," said Joe. "I used to run it, but my son took over nigh thirty years ago. I lost the stomach for it."

"Thirty years ago?" the Doctor asked. "What happened then?"

"I never said anything happened," said Joe defensively.

"Yes you did," said the Doctor. "You said that you'd lost the stomach for it - something must have caused that."

"A regular Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?" said Joe, sounding slightly defeated. "You're not wrong sir, something did happen, as it happens."

"I suspected as much," said the Doctor. "Go on."

"It was the thirteenth of November, nineteen sixty two - a ship ran aground," said Joe. " _The Albatross,_ that was her name, captain by the name of Harold Moran. All hands lost."

"And you were in the lighthouse at the time?" asked the Doctor.

"Aye sir," said Joe, his eyes seeming rather wet all of a sudden. "But there was nothing I could do. The light was on, all was normal. I tried to radio to them, tell them to adjust their course, but there was a powerful storm that night. They never answered my hails. I had no stomach for the work after that - I couldn't take it, feeling so helpless."

"That's very sad," said the Doctor. "You have my sympathy."

"Thanks to you," said Joe, tipping his tumbler at the Doctor, before taking another sip.

"I'm telling you, I've never seen a storm like that - never had before, never have since. There was some terribly strange lightning that night," said Joe. "Are you familiar with ball lightning?"

"I am," said the Doctor.

"Well, just before the ship came ashore, there was some of this stuff. But I've never seen lightning like it - a big white sphere, flying around like a bird, it was," said Joe. "Really weird stuff."

"How strange," said the Doctor quietly.

"It flew onto the _Albatross_ , and just disappeared," said Joe. "Like I said, really peculiar."

"Yes, it sounds like it," said the Doctor, finishing his lemonade. "Tell me, when did this take place?"

"Let me think… November, nineteen sixty two, I think," said Joe.

"Well, Joe, thank you very much. You've been incredibly helpful," said the Doctor.

"Have I?" asked Joe.

"More than you can imagine," said the Doctor, taking Joe's hand and shaking it warmly.

"Well, I'm glad of it sir," said Joe as the Doctor got up from his stool and left the bar.

"Weird fish," Joe muttered, taking a swig of his brandy.

* * *

Chris was standing outside a bookshop, leaning against the wall and watching the world go past. So far, he'd seen no-one matching the Doctor's description - everyone was either a pensioner off out for the day, or a young family taking the children to the beach while the weather was good.

Chris was beginning to consider getting his comm out and calling the Doctor to report in, before a car pulled up. A man climbed out, looking to be in his thirties. He locked the car, before walking off down the street.

"Hello…" Chris muttered, following the man up the road with his eyes. He reached for his comm, but the man disappeared around the corner. Chris stood up from the wall and jogged down the road after the man.

Chris rounded the corner, watching the man as he walked into a chemist's shop. Chris followed him in. The man was standing at the counter, talking to the attendant.

"Long time no see, Peter. How's London?" said the attendant, reaching up to one of the shelves behind the counter. She lifted two boxes and set them on the counter.

"Not too bad, Sarah," said the man - Peter.

"OK, here you go," said Sarah, handing the two boxes over to Peter.

"Thanks Sarah," said Peter, turning and walking. Chris ducked into a side aisle, watching as Peter passed in front of the shop window. Then he quickly crossed the floor and left the shop.

Chris had to think fast - this was his man, it had to be. He reached for his comm, but it would be too late - Peter would be into his car and gone by the time he'd manage to call the Doctor or Roz. Instead, he decided to do something very, very stupid.

Chris broke into a run, catching up to Peter in no time. Then, he stuck his shoulder out, elbowing Peter as he went past.

"Hey!" Peter shouted, dropping one of his boxes.

"Damn! I'm so sorry, wasn't looking where I was going," said Chris, reaching down and picking the box up. He held it out for Peter to take. "I'm in a bit of a rush today."

"That's OK," said Peter, giving Chris an amiable smile. "I haven't seen you before, are you new in town?"

"Yeah, I just arrived last night actually," said Chris. "I'm… err, visiting relatives."

"I see. I'm only got back in town two days ago, actually," said Peter. "I normally live in London, but my mum's… well, she's not too well at the moment."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," said Chris.

"It's OK, I've heard all the sympathy stuff, I'd rather you didn't add to it," Peter said with a wave of his hand.

"No problem," said Chris, holding out his hand. "I'm Chris, Chris Cwej."

"Nice to meet you Chris, I'm Peter Moran," said Peter, glancing at his watch. "Listen, I'm really sorry, but I've got to go. My mum's expecting me back at the house."

"No problem," Chris said again. "Maybe I'll see you around the town."

"Yeah, maybe," Peter smiled, getting into his car. He drove off and Chris waited for a moment, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his radio comm.

"Doctor, it's me. I think I've found our man."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. If you've enjoyed the story so far, please follow/favourite. :-)**


	4. The Stranger

Roz was sitting in a small coffee shop, watching Portmason's main thoroughfare intently. Well, it was about as close to a main thoroughfare as a town as small as Portmason could manage, but even so, it was still the busiest part of the town. Roz sipped at a black coffee, watching each passerby intently.

One person in particular caught her eye. It was a woman in a wide-brimmed hat, overlarge sunglasses, and a red coat. She was also watching the street, taking a good long look at everyone going by. She stuck out a mile from everybody else going past.

There was an electronic burble from Roz's pocket. She reached in and pulled out her radio comm.

"What is it Chris?" she asked.

"Roz, I think I've found the prince. There was a man just here, called Peter Moran," said Chris.

Roz's eyes narrowed as the woman reached into her own pocket and pulled out a slim device. She studied it intently for a few moments.

"He matches the description exactly," Chris was saying.

"I'll be right there," said Roz. She switched off her comm, looking over at the woman again - she was looking right back at Roz. They were across the street from one another, but their eyes locked for a moment. Then, the woman turned and stalked off.

Roz pulled out her comm again and called the Doctor.

"Roz," said the Doctor. "I'm on my way to meet Chris."

"Yes, so I am I," said Roz. "But there's someone else here, a woman. She doesn't look local."

"So? This is a tourist town," said the Doctor.

"I don't mean local as in here on her holiday," said Roz. "It's like she's trying too hard to blend in."

"Ah," said the Doctor. "You mean local as in not from this planet, don't you?"

"Exactly," replied Roz.

"Fine, I'll go and meet Chris. You get after this woman, see what she's up to," said the Doctor.

"Already on it," said Roz. She switched the comm off again, slipping it back into her pocket. She crossed the road, jogging a little to catch up to the woman. The stranger was walking quickly, hands in her pockets.

"Come on then, where are you going?" Roz muttered. She quickened her own pace to catch up a little.

The woman turned off into a small alleyway. Roz rounded the corner herself - the alley seemed to be leading in behind some buildings. Roz emerged out into a courtyard - an empty courtyard.

"Where did you go?" Roz said out loud, before kicking herself. She surveyed her surroundings - little more than a few bins. Besides the alley, there was only one other exit - a back door leading into a rather posh restaurant. Roz walked over to it, trying the handle - shut tight. The woman hadn't escaped this way.

Roz turned around again - the woman was standing right in front of her.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, cocking her head a little.

"I might ask you the same question," said Roz, backing up against the door defensively.

"No, you mightn't," the woman replied. She spoke with a rather upper-class accent, and almost seemed to be sneering at Roz.

"I don't know who the hell you are. Are you working for Frane?" asked the woman.

"What?" Roz stuttered. "How do you know about Frane?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she slipped her hand out of her coat pocket, pulling a long silver knife with it. However, Roz was ready for an attack, and she flung her arm out, batting the knife to the ground. The woman responded in kind - she grabbed Roz and slammed her against the door. Roz was taken aback by the woman's strength.

"Are you working for Frane?" the woman shouted again, getting close into Roz's face.

Roz brought her legs up, kicking the woman in the abdomen. She let Roz go, stumbling back a few feet. Roz took her opportunity, grabbing the woman and tripping her - she fell to the ground, her mouth open in shock. She wasted no time however, in getting to her feet and launching herself at Roz. Roz stepped to the side, but not before an _incredibly_ sharp nail slashed across her cheek, drawing blood.

"I'm not working for anybody," said Roz, although she knew that wasn't entirely true - Frane had given them this mission, after all.

"I don't believe you," said the woman. "Frane sent you, hasn't he?"

"And who are you working for?" asked Roz.

"An authority higher than you can imagine," the woman replied. She launched into a tackle, slamming Roz back into the whitewashed wall of the restaurant. Roz started slamming her fists into the woman's back - her own strength was rather considerable. The woman gasped, falling back a little. She didn't make for another attack, instead reaching for a device on her wrist. She stabbed at a few buttons, before disappearing in a flash of light.

"Oh, shit," Roz muttered. She kicked at one of the bins, making a loud rattling noise. She searched through her pockets for a tissue, dabbing at the cut on her cheek. She walked out into the alley again, cursing herself for letting the woman escape.

* * *

"Doctor," said Chris, as the Time Lord appeared around the corner.

"Hello Chris," said the Doctor. "What have you found?"

"There was a man here, about five minutes ago," said Chris. "His name was Peter Moran - he looked about thirty, Doctor."

"Go on," said the Doctor.

"He parked here." Chris pointed to a spot at the side of the road. "Then he got out and went around to a chemist's, just around the corner, there."

"I see," said the Doctor.

"I followed him, and when he was coming back to the car, I bumped into him. Started up a conversation, found out his name."

"Good work, Chris," said the Doctor peering around the corner. "This is the shop here?"

"Yes, but why…" said Chris. The Doctor marched off down towards the chemist's.

"Good afternoon," said the Doctor as he came through the door. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you."

"No problem, sir," Sarah smiled. "What can I do for you today?"

"Well, the thing is, I'm in town visiting an old family friend - I was meant to meet him for coffee, but I don't think I was in the right place. He told me he was coming here before meeting me, his name's Peter," said the Doctor.

"Oh, Peter Moran," said Sarah. "Yes, I'm afraid you've just missed him."

"Oh, what a shame," said the Doctor. "I'd hate for him to think I'd abandoned him, would you happen to have a home address?"

"Hold on a moment sir," said Sarah. She disappeared into the backroom, before returning with a book. She opened it out, running down the list of names inside.

"Ah, yes, here he is," said Sarah, showing the Doctor the address.

"That's wonderful, you've been of immense help," said the Doctor. He emerged into the street a moment later, giving Chris a smile.

"What was that all about?" Chris asked.

"Now, we have Mr. Moran's contact details," said the Doctor. "Shall we give him a call?"

* * *

"There you are Roz," said Chris. He frowned as he spotted the cut on her cheek. "Hey, what happened to you?"

"I had a run in with someone, someone who knew about Frane," said Roz.

"She knew about Frane? What did she say?" asked the Doctor.

"She just kept asking me if I was working for him," said Roz. "Then she attacked me."

"Oh dear," said the Doctor, his voice grave. "If they know about Frane, then she must be from offworld."

"She had this thing, a device on her wrist," said Roz. "She used it to teleport."

"That presents more than one problem," said the Doctor. "This isn't good - one more variable to account for."

"What now?" asked Roz.

"Chris's found a potential candidate for our prince," said the Doctor. "We're going to pay him a visit."

"I see," said Roz.

"He lives right on the edge of the town," said the Doctor. "It's just a short walk, it'll do us good. Come on, you two."

* * *

"Is this it?" said Chris as they walked up the drive towards a small bungalow.

"Is that Peter's car?" asked the Doctor, pointing to the brand new Ford Mondeo sitting outside the front door.

"Yes, that's it," said Chris, nodding his head.

"Then let's see who's home. You'd better wait here Chris, he'll recognise you," said the Doctor, striding up the steps to the front door. He grabbed the handle, and knocked three times. A moment or two later, the door opened and Peter Moran appeared at the top of the steps.

"Hello there," he said. "How can I help you?"

"Hello, I'm the Doctor," said the Doctor, giving Peter his best smile. "Are you perhaps Peter Moran?"

"That's me, yes," said Peter. "What do you want?"

"I'd very much like to talk to you, Peter," said the Doctor. "May we come in?"

Peter hesitated for a moment. He looked between the Doctor and Roz.

"OK," he said, stepping back and allowing them in.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, walking up the steps and into the house, Roz following closely behind him.

Peter closed the door, before showing the Doctor and Roz into the living room. It was a rather cosy affair, although quite untidy.

"Tea, coffee?" asked Peter.

"Tea, please," said the Doctor. "Black, two sugars."

"None for me, thanks," said Roz. Peter went into the kitchen, and Roz turned to the Doctor.

"What are you going to tell him?" she asked.

"What do you expect me to tell him?" said the Doctor. "I'm going to tell him the truth."

"What?" Roz exclaimed. "He'll never believe you."

"You never know, Roz," said the Doctor. "He just might."

Peter returned a few moments later, bringing a mug with the Doctor's tea.

"Thank you very much," said the Doctor, taking the mug from Peter.

"Now, do you mind my asking what you're doing here?" asked Peter.

"Of course not, Peter," said the Doctor. "We've come rather a long way to see you."

"Oh," said Peter.

"Yes, you see…" The Doctor started to talk, but he was interrupted by the beeping of Peter's watch.

"Oh, I'm very sorry," said Peter. "I'll be back in a moment."

He got up and disappeared back into the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later, in a different direction.

When he came back a moment later, he was smiling apologetically.

"Sorry, my mum's not been well," he said. "It was time for her medicine."

"Your mother's not been well?" asked the Doctor.

"No, I'm afraid not," said Richard. "The doctors have no idea what's wrong. She's on pain relief."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that," said the Doctor. He set the mug down on Peter's coffee table.

"Is that what you're here about?" asked Peter. "You said you were a doctor."

"I'm afraid not," said the Doctor. "I'm not that sort of doctor. I'm actually here to talk about you."

"Me?" said Peter.

"Yes. I'd like to ask you a few questions," said the Doctor.

"OK," said Peter. "Go on."

"The first one I'd like to ask you is your age," said the Doctor.

"My age? That's a little personal, isn't it?" said Peter.

"All will become clear, I hope," said the Doctor.

"Thirty," said Peter. "I'm thirty years old."

"Excellent," said the Doctor. "I'm very sorry for prying, but were you adopted?"

"What's this about?" asked Peter, the beginnings of a frown appearing on his face.

"Please, Peter," said the Doctor.

"I was adopted in November nineteen sixty two," said Richard.

"November nineteen sixty two?" The Doctor echoed. Richard nodded.

"I see," said the Doctor, thinking back to Joe's tale about the storm and the shipwreck. "Moran…"

"Is this about the _Albatross_?" Peter asked. "Because the wreck's long gone, if that's what you're after."

"No actually, it's not," said the Doctor. "I'm here because I believe I know your true parentage."

"What?" Richard said, his eyes wide. "You know who my parents were?"

"I have a suspicion," said the Doctor. He was about to say more when the front door opened and Chris appeared.

"Doctor, there's something you'd better come and see," he said.

"Hey! It's you! Chris… thingy," said Peter. The Doctor sprung up.

"What is it Chris?" asked the Doctor, the pair going to the front door.

"Someone's coming," said Chris, pointing. Roz gasped as she joined them.

"That's her! The woman who attacked me," she said.

"Oh dear," said the Doctor gravely. "Quickly, Chris, shut the door."

They moved back inside, ignoring Peter's protests. A moment later, there was a loud bang as the door was ripped off it's hinges.

"Peter Moran? Where are you?" the woman shouted, stepping into the hallway.

In the living room, the Doctor was giving orders.

"Roz, Peter, against the back wall, now," he said. "Chris, beside the door."

The Doctor and Chris got into position, one on either side of the doorframe. When the woman strode through, the Doctor shouted.

"Now, Chris!"

Chris moved forward, placing his eyes on either side of the woman, trapping her arms against her sides. The Doctor grabbed her wrist, the one with the teleport bracelet. He began tapping buttons frantically.

"Now, Chris, let go!" The Doctor shouted. Chris released the woman, just in time - she disappeared in a flash of light. There was a moments silence in the living room.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Peter shouted, breaking the silence suddenly. His protestation went unanswered.

"Doctor, where did she go?" asked Chris.

"I reprogrammed her teleport bracelet," said the Doctor. "Sent her about a kilometre east of here."

"A kilometre?" said Roz, looking out Peter's living room window towards the sea. "But that's out into the ocean."

"Yes," the Doctor chuckled. "I imagine she'll be none too pleased to see me the next time I run into her."

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on here?" Peter shouted.

"All in good time," said the Doctor, lifting his mug of tea and taking a sip. "First, I need to have a chat with your mother. Chris, take Mr Moran out to his car. Roz, stay here - I'm going to see Mrs. Moran."

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. If you've enjoyed the story so far, please follow/favourite.**


	5. Back in Time

The bedroom was dark, the curtains drawn and the only illumination being provided by a lamp on the bedside table. Helen Moran was sitting in an old wingback, a book lying open in her lap. She looked over as the door opened and a stranger walked in.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Moran. I am the Doctor."

"Doctor? You're not Doctor Jacobs," said the old lady.

"No, I'm not," the Doctor replied softly. "I'm here about your son, Mrs Moran."

"What about him?" said Helen, her tone defensive.

"I know, Mrs Moran," said the Doctor. "I know what he is."

There was a moment of silence.

"I knew this day would come," said Helen quietly. She seemed close to tears.. "I knew someone would find me out."

"You couldn't have hidden him forever," said the Doctor.

"I tried," said Helen.

"You didn't adopt him, did you?" asked the Doctor.

"No, I didn't," Helen admitted. "I found him, my sweet little boy."

"Mrs Moran, I need to know everything," said the Doctor. "Peter is in the most grave danger. It is vital that you tell me all about him."

"He was my miracle," said Helen, her eyes glazing over. She stared into the distance, becoming lost in days long past. "My angel from on high."

"Tell me everything about him," said the Doctor.

"It was the night the _Albatross_ ran aground," said Helen. "There was the most dreadful storm - thunder and lightning, and the driving rain. We found out after that some of the men went overboard even before the ship came ashore."

"Tell me about Peter, Mrs Moran," the Doctor said softly.

"My Harold was the captain of the _Albatross_ ," said Helen. "I was watching for the ship, waiting for him. When I saw it hit the rocks…"

Helen paused for a moment.

"I knew that he was dead, I just knew. I ran out to the wreck, hoping, praying that he'd be alive. But I was wrong," said Helen. She dropped into silence.

"Go on," the Doctor prompted.

"I found Harold in the wheelhouse," said Helen. "I was so upset. But then I found Peter - my little angel. He was held in the arms of my husband, safe and protected."

Helen motioned to the wardrobe.

"The box on the bottom," she said. The Doctor opened the wardrobe doors and crouched down to pick up the box. He stood up, turning around and setting it on the bed.

"Open it," said Helen.

The Doctor slid the lid off, revealing a bundle of silver cloth.

"He was wrapped in that," said Helen. "It kept him warm, so very warm."

"Does Peter know the truth?" asked the Doctor, running his hands across the silver cloth. The passing years had done nothing to dull its shine, and it glittered softly in the warm light from the lamp.

"No," said Helen. "I never told him anything about his origin. As far as he's aware, he was adopted just before Harold died."

"I see," said the Doctor.

"I know that my Peter is an angel," said Helen. "He's my gift from God."

The Doctor sighed.

"If only it were that simple," he said. "I fear that Peter's origins are more sinister than you have imagined."

"No Doctor," said Helen. "No matter where he came from, he was brought to me by God."

"I'm not so sure," said the Doctor. "But I have every intention of finding out why he came to Earth. Mrs Moran, I must ask you to come with me. It's not safe for you here anymore."

* * *

"There's the Doctor," said Roz. Chris was standing by the open passenger door of Peter's car - Peter was waiting in the driver's seat. The Doctor was coming through the door, helping an elderly lady down the steps.

"Chris, this is Mrs Moran, Peter's mother," said the Doctor. "Take them both to the Inn and keep them safe. Roz, you're coming with me. We shouldn't be too long."

"OK Doctor," said Chris, helping Helen into the car. "Where are you two going?"

"Back to the TARDIS," said the Doctor. "There's something I need to see."

* * *

"You know where we're going?" asked Chris. Peter nodded, fixing the rearview mirror.

"I'm still waiting on an explanation," he said without looking at Chris.

"Well, that's the Doctor's area," said Chris.

"The Doctor's not here," said Peter. "I want an explanation from you, right now."

"I don't really know all the facts," said Chris.

"I don't care. Tell me what you do know," said Peter, as he began to reverse the car down the driveway. "I deserve that much, since I'm coming along with you."

"I suppose that's fair enough," said Chris. "The truth is, you weren't born here, on Earth."

"What?" Peter gave Chris a strange look. "That's not possible."

"It's true," said Chris. "You are the son of a King."

"No, I'm not," said Peter, laughing nervously. "I'm the adopted son of a dead fisherman."

"That's true," said Chris. "But you're biological parents came from a different world."

"But… but I'm human," said Peter. "I mean, look at me! I'm as human as they come."

"The Doctor thinks you might have been disguised in some way," said Chris. Green hedges whipped past him as Peter accelerated down the road.

"You're really not lying, are you?" asked Peter.

"Not in the slightest," said Chris.

"Damn," Peter muttered. "I've got a daughter. Is she an alien too?"

"I really don't know," said Chris.

"I want more answers," said Peter.

"You and me both," Chris replied. "You and me both."

* * *

The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door and pushed it open.

"So tell me," said Roz as they walked into the control room. "Where are we going?"

"Thirty years into the past," said the Doctor. "I need to see why Peter was sent to Earth.

He leaned over the console, his hands flowing across the various switches and buttons. The doors hummed closed, and the controls burbled.

"The thirteenth of November, nineteen sixty two," he said, typing coordinates into the console. The TARDIS' engines began humming and the central column began to oscillate.

"What did you ask Mrs Moran about?" Roz asked.

"She confirmed that Peter came from the stars," the Doctor replied. "That's solved the mystery of Peter's arrival on Earth, but it leaves us in the dark about his reasons for originally coming here. That's what I'm hoping to find now."

The console pinged as the TARDIS materialised.

"Let's have a look," said the Doctor. He reached across and pushed a button - on the wall, a panel slid back, revealing the scanner screen. The image of a spaceship was on the screen - laser bolts pinged off it's shields, sending bright green waves of energy across the hull.

"What is that?" asked Roz.

"I recognise the insignia," said the Doctor. "That is the private ship of the Fifth Holy Monarch of Kaloom."

"The Fifth?" said Roz.

"Yes, I know what you're thinking," said the Doctor. "Frane mentioned the Sixth Holy Monarch. I imagine we're about to see the cause of his succession."

"Another ship's pulling alongside," said Roz, pointing at the scanner.

"We need a closer look," said the Doctor, turning back to his controls. "Let's see... I wonder if they have a camera network?"

He pushed a few buttons on the controls, and the image on the scanner changed. Now there was the image of a domed room - two people were standing and watching a white sphere fly out into space.

"There goes Peter," said the Doctor. "That was his escape pod - it landed on the Albatross."

"They're leaving, Doctor," Roz said.

"Yes. Let's follow them on the cameras."

The image changed again - an airlock door was now on the screen. A bright glow was coming through the main lock.

The airlock broke open, and three figures marched through, each wearing a set of armour.

"Frane told us the Fifth Monarch was attacked by pirates," said Roz. "They don't look much like pirates."

"No, they don't," said the Doctor in a quiet voice.

The three soldiers walked away from the airlock, and the Doctor pushed a button, changing cameras again. This time the scanner was showing the Monarch and Queen again. They were standing in a cargo bay - and there was a third figure with them.

"Doctor, look!" said Roz, pointing at the screen.

"I see her," said the Doctor. "Your assailant."

The three soldiers came onto the screen. The leader reached up to his helmet - it came away, revealing a young man's head.

"Frane," said the Doctor, the distaste evidence in his voice.

"It was him! He attacked the Monarch," Roz gasped.

"It would seem so. Let's see if we can listen in," said the Doctor as he turned a dial on the console.

"Ambassador," said the Monarch.

"Your Highness," said Frane, his voice crackling through the TARDIS' console's speakers.

"What do you think you're doing, Frane?" asked the Monarch.

"I'm here to depose you, sir," Frane replied. He drew a pistol from a holster on his belt and levelled it at the King.

"Depose? Or kill?" said the Monarch.

"There's no difference for you," said Frane. He squeezed the trigger of his blaster, and a bolt of energy lanced into the Monarch's chest.

A multitude of things happened at once - the King fell to the ground, clutching his chest. The Queen turned to watch, her mouth agape. The woman, Roz's assailant, sprang forwards, pulling a short-sword from her belt. She went for Frane, but she was quickly knocked back by his guards. She fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Your Majesty," Frane said, raising his blaster to the Queen. She looked at him in disgust.

"You are filth," she said. "You betray your own people."

"By the time I'm finished here," said Frane, "I'll be King. Where is your son?"

"Far from your reach," said the Queen. She stood up, facing Frane. "You will never find him."

"Where is the prince?" Frane growled, stepping forward and pushing his blaster into the Queen's chin. "What have you done with him? Tell me!"

"You're never going to find him," said the Queen. "He's safe."

"Wouldn't you like to think so?" said Frane. He pulled the trigger on his blaster, and the Queen's body dropped to the floor by her husband's.

"Search the ship," Frane ordered. "Find the child."

The Doctor quickly pushed a button on the console. The camera changed back to the first room they'd seen - the one with the sphere. The door opened and one of Frane's soldiers marched in. He took one look at the open wall and empty hole in the floor, before reaching a communicator up to his mouth.

"Sir, one of the escape pods has been jettisoned," he said. The Doctor switched the camera back to Frane, who was yelling and kicking at the Queen's body.

"This was… awful," said Roz.

"Yes," said the Doctor as he switched the scanner off. "But now we know the truth."

"Frane killed the Fifth Monarch," said Roz. "But why?"

"He obviously thinks he has some claim to the throne," the Doctor answered. "'By the time I'm finished here, I'll be King', isn't that what he said?"

"What do we do now?" Roz asked.

"We need to make sure that Peter and his mother are safe," said the Doctor, turning his attention back to the controls. He set the coordinates for nineteen ninety three - the TARDIS dematerialised, hurtling along the time vortex to it's destination. "And then we need to deal with Frane."

* * *

Chris had convinced Albert to lock up early for the night - a course of action which had involved him buying all the remaining rooms in the Inn - and was now sitting on edge, waiting for the Doctor and Roz to return. Peter and his mother were sitting by the fire, almost asleep.

"When can we leave?" asked Peter groggily.

"Soon," Chris lied. "When the Doctor comes back."

There was a knock at the door. Peter looked up at Chris, who put his finger to his lips. Chris stood up from the bar stool he was sitting on and crept over to the door. He opened it a crack.

A woman with a wide brimmed hat was standing just across the threshold.

"Don't panic," she said. Chris decided to ignore her.

"Peter! Run!" he shouted, whipping the door open. He was about to grab the woman, when he heard someone shouting.

"Chris! No! She's on our side!" the Doctor yelled as he came running into Chris' view.

Chris stopped suddenly - the Doctor and Roz were running up the road towards him, the Doctor waving his arms in the air.

"What? Doctor, what's going on?" Chris asked.

"Quickly, get inside," said the Doctor. "We have a lot to talk about."

"You too," he said to the woman. "I have most of this affair figured out, but there are still some points I think you might be able to clear up."

The Doctor walked past Chris into the Inn. Chris stepped back, allowing the woman in as well.

"What the hell's going on?" Chris asked Roz.

"Come inside," said Roz. "We're going to explain everything."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. If you've enjoyed the story so far, please follow/favourite.**


	6. Showdown

The Doctor gathered everyone around a table in the bar. Albert had been persuaded to go upstairs, so they had the place totally to themselves.

"I suppose we'd better introduce ourselves," said the Doctor as he looked at the newcomer. "I am the Doctor, this is Chris, Roz, Peter and Helen."

"My name is Sindar," said the woman. She had removed her hat, revealing hazel hair, pulled back from her face. "I was the personal bodyguard of the Fifth Monarch and his Queen."

She looked at Peter with a sort of wistfulness.

"I have been looking for you for a very long time," said Sindar. "You were also under my protection, until your parents sent you away."

"Chris told me, about…" said Peter, stuttering a little. "About them, a bit. My real mother and father."

"Your father was the Fifth Monarch of Kaloom," said Sindar. "Your mother was his Queen Consort. They were the heads of our society, and they ruled well. Under King Manir's throne, Kaloom prospered, making peace with several powerful enemies we had made in the times of past Monarchs."

Sindar reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small black disc.

"Here," she said. "This is for you to keep."

"What is it?" asked Peter as he accepted the disc from the woman.

"Push the button," Sindar said. Peter pushed the button, and a small hologramatic image appeared in the air above the disc. Two figures appeared - a man and a woman.

"Those were your real parents," said Sindar. "His Majesty the King Manir of Kaloom, and his Queen Consort Nadik."

"These are my parents?" Peter breathed. "They look just like me."

"Peter, I know this has been a difficult day for you," said the Doctor. "But there are people on their way here to kill you. You present the only threat remaining to them."

"What sort of threat?" asked Peter, looking a little confused.

"The man that killed your mother and father, your real parents, was a man named Frane. He seemed to think that killing your family would grant him access to the throne of Kaloom. Unfortunately for him, he didn't reckon on your mother and father jettisoning you in an escape pod," said the Doctor. "You are the heir to the throne of Kaloom, the only person in the entire universe capable of dethroning him."

"I'm the heir to a throne?" asked Peter. The Doctor nodded.

"On the occasion of your parents' deaths, the throne should rightfully have passed to you," he said.

"But that's not what happened," said Sindar. "Frane returned to Kaloom, claiming that the King and Queen, and indeed you, Peter, had been murdered in a pirate raid. Then he brought out his own claim to the throne - he was a distant relation of Manir's, and since the King left no extended family, the throne passed to him."

"So, we're left with something of a problem," said the Doctor. "We need to demonstrate to the people of Kaloom that you're the rightful heir of the throne, and we need to deal with Frane."

"Well, the first one is easy," said Sindar, producing a nasty looking device from her coat. She stuck on Peter's arm and pushed a button on the casing.

"Ow!" Peter yelped as a needle passed through his skin, drawing blood. The device sucked the blood up for a moment, before pinging.

"Every Monarch's DNA is held on file," said Sindar. "Yours will match your father's, thus proving that you are the next in the line of succession."

"You could have given me a bit of warning," said Peter, rubbing the spot on his arm.

"You wouldn't have let me," said Sindar, replacing the cylinder in her pocket. She turned back to the Doctor. "Dealing with Frane's going to be another task entirely, however."

"I agree," said the Doctor. "But I have a few ideas on where to start."

"We'll need to do it soon," said Sindar. "He'll detect my ship soon - it's in orbit. We can't wait."

"No, we can't," the Doctor agreed. "But no matter - I have a plan."

* * *

Frane's ship passed out of hyperspace, swinging itself in a loose arc towards the planet Earth. As the ship entered a geostationary orbit above England, Frane extricated himself from the pilot's chair and made his way through the empty corridors of his craft to a small room at the back, near the engines. Inside this room was a cylindrical chamber made of glass, with enough room for one person inside, and a small computer terminal.

Frane moved his hands across the controls on the terminal, priming the teleport chamber for use. He rested his hand against a metal panel, and the machine whirred, taking a reading of his genetic material. The chamber hissed open and Frane stepped inside. After a few seconds of waiting, the chamber flared with light, and Frane disappeared.

* * *

The Doctor was waiting on the jetty, his umbrella up, perched on his shoulder. The rain had returned, driving out of the sky and soaking any unfortunate person who'd happened to leave their raincoat in the car. The Doctor looked up, the familiar tangy smell that usually accompanied teleportation flooding into his nostrils. There was a flare of light at the end of the jetty and Frane appeared, his coat quickly becoming damp in the rain. Water ran in rivulets from his hat, and he walked quickly towards the Doctor.

"Well, Doctor? Have you found the prince?" asked Frane.

"Yes, I have," the Doctor replied. "I'll take you to him now."

"I'm capable of finding my own way," said Frane, not unkindly. "Just tell me where to find him."

"I always see a job through to the end, Ambassador," said the Doctor, placing a measure of emphasis on the last word in that sentence. "I'll take you to him."

"As you wish, Doctor," said Frane. He seemed to lose his facade for a moment, but perhaps it was just the Doctor's imagination. Either way, it didn't matter.

"This way," said the Doctor, gesturing back up the jetty towards the town. They began to walk, the Doctor making no move to share his umbrella. They walked in silence, until they reached the main street of Portmason. It was almost ten o'clock at night, so everywhere was closed - exactly what the Doctor needed.

"Chris! Sindar! Now!" he shouted, leaping off into an alleyway, gripping his hat to his head, racing off towards the jetty again. Frane's head whipped around, but not quickly enough. Suddenly, Sindar had stepped out into the road in front of him, and Chris behind him - both of them too close for him to even consider following the Doctor.

"Sindar?" he nodded at his adversary. "I thought you died in the mines on Halikrane."

"You hoped," said Sindar, drawing a blaster from her coat.

"I should have known better than to think I'd get what I wished for," said Frane, pulling out his own blaster.

"If you want a job done, do it yourself," said Sindar. "Something of a local proverb."

"What a superb idea," Frane replied, raising his blaster. Suddenly, Chris was upon him, pinning his arms to his side. Frane jerked and shook, but to no avail - the human was strong. Frane squeezed the trigger of his blaster, aiming for Chris's boots - the green laser bolt singed the ground, smoke curling into the night air. Chris never let go, and suddenly Sindar was there, laying into Frane. Punch after punch rained onto his abdomen, and Frane suddenly threw his head back, his skull slamming into Chris's nose. The man let go of him, stumbling back and gripping his face.

"Idiot," Frane muttered, aiming his gun at Chris. Just before he could pull the trigger, Sindar had slammed her arm into his wrist, and the shot went high, disappearing into the clouds. He turned to face her, but she delivered a quick blow to his throat, briefly stunning him. She took her chance, sweeping his legs out from beneath him - he fell to the ground. She was standing over him, raising her own blaster - too slow. Frane kicked out, and Sindar's legs buckled, her gun clattering to the side of the road, well out of reach. Frane reached for his own blaster, but didn't reach it before Chris had hauled him to his feet and flung him away from Sindar.

Frane landed on his back, the back of his head slamming painfully off the kerb. Chris dragged him to his feet again, and delivered a blow to his stomach. Frane doubled over in a feint, swinging his head back up and punching Chris in the chest. The human stumbled back, winded and gasping for breath. Sindar leapt across, swinging Frane around and holding him in a choke lock.

Frane pulled a knife from a concealed pouch on his belt - he stabbed downwards and the blade plunged into Sindar's thigh. She cried out in pain, and fell to the ground.

"Imbeciles," Frane grunted. "Now one of you, tell me where the prince is."

"Not a chance," Chris replied. "He's well out of your reach."

"The last person that told me that about the prince had her body jettisoned out of an airlock," said Frane. "I'll not be so kind with you. So tell me where he is!"

"Honestly," said Chris, "I have absolutely no idea what the Doctor's done with him."

* * *

Chris wasn't lying. The Doctor had only told each person about their individual role in the plan, in the event that Frane captured one of them. As it happened, Peter was just getting into his car outside the Portmason Inn.

"We have to go now, while Frane's distracted," said Roz, ushering both Peter and his mother through the door of the inn. They got into the car, and Roz took a quick look around to make sure that no one was watching. Then she climbed into the driver's seat and switched on the engine.

"Where are we going?" asked Peter.

"Out of town," said Roz, as the car pulled away from the kerb. "As quickly as possible. You both might want to find something to hang onto."

Then she floored the accelerator, and the car sped off.

* * *

Frane knew that Chris wasn't lying, that much was obvious. So, after a swift boot to the human's ribs, he stepped back and pressed the button on his teleport bracelet. He disappeared in a flare of light, appearing a moment later in the teleport chamber of his ship.

He moved swiftly to the control room of his ship, and pressed a button on the console - a beam of red light shot out from the underside of the ship's hull, beaming down towards Portmason.

* * *

"What the hell is that?" asked Chris, as he staggered to his feet. The night sky was criss-crossed with red lines, tracing across and obscuring the stars.

"Frane's setting up a forcefield," said Sindar, as she pulled the knife from her leg. "He's trying to stop anyone leaving the town."

* * *

"Look out!" Peter shouted, pointing up the road ahead.

Roz slammed the brakes as a wall of red light came down across the road. The car swerved, and hit the wall side on - it slammed to a stop, jostling the three passengers around inside.

"What on Earth is that?" asked Peter.

"Some sort of force field," said Roz. "Everybody out, we need to get off the road."

Peter had to clamber out over the central console to get out the driver's side door, his own being pressed tightly against the forcefield. He helped his mother out from the backseat.

"Where now?" he asked Roz. "Which way?"

"It's too late," she said, as a flare of light appeared a little way up the road. Frane was walking towards them, blaster in hand.

"Where are you?" he shouted, before spotting the car, Roz and Peter. A cruel smile broke out on his face as he walked towards them.

"I've been looking for you for a very long time, your Highness," he shouted as he set eyes on Peter. "There's no getting away from me this time."

"What are we going to do?" Peter whispered to Roz.

"I'm trying to think," she replied.

"Time to join mummy and daddy in the great big palace in the sky," said Frane as he raised his gun.

Before he could fire, a flare of light appeared right beside him, momentarily blinding him. Sindar leapt out and stabbed Frane's own blade into his abdomen. He gasped as she twisted it, warm blood spilling over her hand.

"That's for the Monarch," she said, shoving him back. Frane pulled the blade free - it clattered to the ground as he staggered back, scrabbling at his teleport bracelet and dropping his blaster in the process. He disappeared in a flash of light.

"Is that it?" asked Peter, looking at Roz. "Are we safe?"

"I wouldn't bank on it," said Sindar. "His ship's in orbit - he'll be carrying weapons."

"What sort of weapons?" asked Peter.

"Weapons worse than anything you've got on this planet. He could wipe the entire town off the face of Earth if he wanted to."

"Where's Chris?" she asked.

"Back in town," said Sindar. "He's bruised, but safe."

"And the Doctor?" Roz asked.

"I haven't seen him," Sindar replied. "Not since he ran off the main street."

"Damn," Roz muttered, reaching for her radio comm - she had Chris's signal, but not the Doctor's.

"Where are you, Doctor?" she muttered.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. If you've enjoyed the story so far, please follow/favourite.**


	7. Finale & Epilogue

The teleport chamber flared, and Frane appeared inside the glass tube. He shoved the door of the chamber opened and staggered out, droplets of blood escaping between his fingers as he stumbled towards the control room. He was beginning to feel faint as he went to the pilot's chair, slumping down and wincing in pain. He rested his hand on the controls and began to prime the weapons systems. The ship went to work, and a button popped out of a panel in front of him. Frane reached forward to fire his ship's missiles. However, before he could manage this, a red light began flashing on the screen in front of him.

"Unauthorised person in transmat room," said the computerised voice of his ship's AI. Frane groaned, and hauled himself up from the chair and back down the corridor. The door hissed open and he staggered through.

The TARDIS was sitting just behind the teleport chamber. The Doctor was standing at the computer terminal by the teleport chamber, working away at the controls.

"Doctor!" Frane shouted. The little man turned and looked at him.

"The game's up, Frane," said the Doctor. "You've failed - Peter's alive, and Sindar's got the evidence she needs to depose you from the throne. Your reign is over."

"Not if I burn the town below," said Frane. "My ship's already priming the weapons systems. Portmason will be destroyed."

"Over my dead body," the Doctor replied.

"Easily arranged," said Frane. He groaned as a little blood passed through his fingers, pooling on the floor. "I'm going to kill you."

"No you're not," said the Doctor, pushing a switch on the terminal.

"What are you doing?" Frane stuttered.

"Ending you," said the Doctor. "Righting all the wrongs you've made, tidying up after all you've done. You're never going to hurt anyone ever again, _your Majesty_."

"Stop this, Doctor," Frane pleaded.

"No!" the Doctor replied, turning back to his work. "This console is primed to your DNA, targeted to you specifically, isn't it?"

"But I'm not in the chamber," said Frane, gesturing with his free hand at the glass cylinder. "Nothing you can do is going to work."

"You're mistaken," said the Doctor. "I sealed the door when you came in, then expanded the transmat field to cover this entire room. Anyone wearing a teleport bracelet is going to be teleported fifty metres starboard."

"But that's outside, space!" Frane exclaimed.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," said the Doctor, turning a lever on the terminal. The lights lit up green on the console, as well as on Frane's bracelet.

"You are murdering the High Monarch!" Frane shouted.

"No! You are an imposter to the throne, a murderer and a coward," said the Doctor fiercely. "I am just administering the justice you so richly deserve. The real King is on the planet below."

"No! I am the King," Frane shouted. "It's my throne!"

"Goodbye Frane," said the Doctor, pulling the lever. A flare of light surrounded Frane and the man disappeared. He reappeared a moment later, fifty metres to the right of his prior position. Frane got a brief glimpse of the hull panels on his ship before he died.

* * *

"Look!" Roz shouted, pointing into the sky. The forcefield disappeared, and a bright orange explosion blossomed in the night sky.

"Frane's ship?" asked Peter.

"Yes," said Sindar. "That was his ship - the Doctor's won. Frane's dead."

* * *

Albert was rather startled the next morning when he came down to open the Inn. His three guests seemed rather crumpled and tired, though triumphant - and they had guests of their own, it seemed. That said, he didn't turn their money away when it came to the huge breakfasts each of them ordered.

"So," said Chris. "What now?"

"Well, that very much depends on Peter," said the Doctor. "You have a choice to make."

"A choice?" Peter echoed through a mouthful of toast. "What sort of choice?"

"Are you going to stay here on Earth?" asked the Doctor. "Or are you going to claim the throne of Kaloom, and the title of Seventh High Monarch?"

"I… I don't know," said Peter. "I don't know where I belong, to be honest."

"It's completely up to you," said the Doctor.

"I've got a family here on Earth," said Peter. "But I'm not human, I'm not…"

"Of course you're human," said the Doctor. "You're as human as they come. You've lived your entire life on Earth, had all those human experiences."

"But, genetically, biologically speaking…" said Peter. "I'm not."

"You can be human if you wish to be," said the Doctor. "Alternatively, you can be a King."

"I don't know," said Peter. "I've never had to make such a large choice."

"No time like the present," said Roz.

"I don't think I'll be able to forget all of this," said Peter. "Aliens, other worlds, all that. But at the same time, I don't think I'd fit in on a different world - I have no idea about customs, anything like that."

"I suppose you'd learn quickly," said the Doctor. "But you are in no way tied to either planet - none of us are ever tied to anywhere. It's our choice where we live, how we spend our lives."

"What about you?" asked Peter. "Where do you belong?"

Roz and Chris looked at the Doctor, each fully expecting him to dodge the question as he normally did. However, today he decided to surprise them.

"I belong amongst the stars, wandering here and there," said the Doctor, unusually candid. "You've seen just a small part of my life, Peter. There's so much out there, and so little time in which to see it all."

"Of course, it does help if you have a time machine, Doctor," said Chris. The Doctor chuckled.

"Yes, I suppose it does," he said, before turning serious again. "So, Peter. Which is it?"

* * *

"Will he be alright?" asked Roz as they watched Peter beginning to walk home. "Won't someone find out about him? What if he needs to go to a hospital?"

"Oh, he'll be fine," said the Doctor. "He's managed thirty years so far. Besides, I gave him the number of a UNIT Helpline, he can use it if he's ever in any serious trouble."

"I suppose," said Roz. "But what about the people of Kaloom? They have no leader now."

"With any luck, the people will take things into their own hands, return power to the people. Sindar will be able to show them the error of their ways. Everything's turned out rather nice in the end," said the Doctor as they approached the TARDIS, his key in his hand. "I'll check in on them from time to time, see how things are going."

"So, that's us then?" said Chris. "Back on the road again?"

"Back on the road again," the Doctor confirmed, pushing the TARDIS door open. "Who knows where we'll end up next?"

"Certainly not you, anyway," Roz teased. "It's a bit of a lottery, travelling with you."

"It's much more fun that way," the Doctor protested as they went inside. "The old girl doesn't like to make things… predictable."

The TARDIS door closed. A moment later, a howling noise struck up, and the police box faded away, leaving a square dry patch on the jetty, surrounded by damp planks. The time machine hurled itself into the time vortex, spinning off, ducking between years and days of time, in search of new adventures.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **The End! I've really enjoyed writing this story, and writing for the Seventh Doctor - not my usual choice of Doctor. Incidentally, this is the first story to feature character listings for Chris Cwej and Roz Forrester on this site :-) I can only hope that you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed making it. Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. Also click on my profile and check out the other stories I've written :-)**


	8. Other Stories

If you liked this story, please check out my others. You can find the links in my profile.

 **Twelfth Doctor Short Stories:**

 **1)** Lost in Time and Space

 **2)** Kill Zone

 **3)** Breakout

 **4)** Through the Night

 **Other stories:**

Ohm's Void - a story featuring the Eleventh Doctor and Clara Oswald.

The Lost Prince - a story featuring the Seventh Doctor, Chris Cwej and Roz Forrester.

The Last Great Time War - an ongoing series covering the Eighth Doctor's involvement in the Time War, and will later switch to the War Doctor.

The Bet & Other Stories - a series of unconnected oneshots.


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